


Documenting Acceptable Levels of Insanity for the Shinobi Lifestyle

by Aishuu



Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dai-nana-han | Team 7 (Naruto) Feels, Gender Issues, Humor, Multi, Original Character(s), Psychologists & Psychiatrists, Unreliable Narrator, gritty ninja world, the inmates are running the asylum
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-14
Updated: 2015-04-17
Packaged: 2018-03-22 23:02:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3746824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aishuu/pseuds/Aishuu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When rumors of Sasuke dressing in drag reach Konoha's higher-ups, Team Seven is required to report to the village's "shinobi evaluator" to determine if Sasuke is too crazy to remain in service. Pity the evaluator.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is based on the [Saki-verse](http://asukasama.free.fr/englisharchive_NaruSaki.htm), which was created several years ago by the vastly talented Asuka Kureru. This is a canon divergence, set in the nebulous Saki-verse, where Sasuke is retrieved at some point from Orochimaru without too much of the canon second arc happening.
> 
> If you squick about unaccepting/confused/incorrect character reactions and interpretations to gender identities and mental illness, you may want to give this a skip.

I have the most difficult job in Konoha - and no, it's not Hokage. I'm the psychiatrist who gets to decide if a ninja is too crazy for a mission. Not if they're crazy - if they're _too_ crazy. They don't actually call me a counselor. Instead, I'm on the payroll as "shinobi evaluator."

Whatever. I'm the last line of defense between the village and _yet another_ ninja going over the edge, and I'll do the job to the best of my ability – and with the arsenal of many, many drug prescriptions. 

There is a direct correlation between the strength of a shinobi and how insane they are. Granted, becoming a shinobi requires a certain amount of insanity, but someone needs to know when to draw the line. I get to decide if their insanity is acceptable. Basically, do they still know how to hold a kunai, and can they point it in the right direction. If they become fixated on porn or peeping, big deal. Having a jounin go completely crackers is bad, though. Really screwed up with Orochimaru, but I was still new at the time. 

I've done better since, though there was a rather unpleasant episode with Uchiha Itachi. My efforts are why Idame Ukyou isn't a village-wide name (when a ninja starts obsessing with fire and acid, it's never a good thing) and why Morino Ibiki is still considered active-duty personnel. It's a delicate balancing act, and I often don't get cases until it's nearly too late.

That doesn't mean I always enjoy it. Shinobi tend to be paranoid types, as the series of kunai marks in my wall can attest. It's always the ones that need help the most that are the most disagreeable. When I heard Uchiha Sasuke was spotted in town dressed in drag, I took a handful of aspirin, with the knowledge the problem was somehow going to land in my lap.

Sure enough, Tsunade showed up in my office two days later, a frown on her face. It was right as I was preparing to close the office for the day, but she didn't even ask for permission before entering. She walked over to my coffee maker, filling a cup without saying anything, and tossed it back like it was sake. 

I see her every week, Tuesdays at two, which is why she was so familiar with the place. She has a gambling addiction and is fixated on her looks, but it could be a lot worse. She's Hokage, and that level of ninja mastery doesn't come without price. Narcissism isn't that bad, considering. Luckily she's also a trained medic nin and knows enough to let me do my job.

"Can I help you, Tsunade?" I asked. I never used honorifics with her since she had enough of an ego as it was. The last thing she needed was her counselor deferring to her.

She hmphed, rubbing the bridge of her nose with a carefully manicured hand before reaching up her shirt-sleeve and pulling out a a photograph, which she tossed into my lap. "We have a problem," she said, looking at me without humor.

The shot was a candid one, showing a pretty woman dressed in a frilly outfit. Cute girl, I thought, before looking closer and realizing I recognized her. I'd seen this girl before at my husband's shop, Ichiraku. I never would have pegged her as a ninja. A closer look showed callused hands, one of the first thing I checked when meeting someone. Shinobi were great with disguises, but there was little they could do about their hands.

Mentally, I summoned the memories of the girl and only was able to recall a whispery voice and excessive shyness. I wondered why she could be a source of concern, but I had learned to trust Tsunade's opinion (when gambling wasn't involved). She was familiar, I thought. I ran through my mental catalog of shinobi I'd met, and then remembered the most recent village gossip about the Uchiha heir.

"Damn, he's prettier than I ever was," I said with disgust.

"It's disturbing, isn't it?" Tsunade asked rhetorically. "I suppose you understand the cause of my concern."

I nodded my agreement. “This is the Uchiha boy, isn't it?”

“Uchiha Sasuke,” Tsunade answered. She wore a slightly pinched look of dislike, which wasn't surprising. His whole 'throw everything Konoha stands for into the crapper and run to the insane Sannin with strange fetishes' episode hadn't been one of the brighter spots in the village's recent history.

I hadn't seen him much since, but the girl looked more familiar than I liked. I frowned, trying to place where I'd seen 'her.' The answer came a moment later. "Isn't she dating Uzumaki Naruto?" I asked.

"So it seems."

_Very not good,_ I thought. "He would... know... right?" Naruto, that ramen vacuum cleaner I've known since he was knee-high, was basically a good kid. He was loud and prone to egotism, but his heart was in the right place. For his former teammate to fuck – maybe literally – around with him roused my maternal instincts.

"They are on the same team. I don't think he's going to be getting any... unpleasant surprises."

"Well, that's good, right?"

"I always thought Naruto was straight," Tsunade replied. "I'm wondering if Sasuke is changing just so Naruto can accept him."

While all relationships require compromise from both sides, I could see her point. A relationship where someone completely sublimated his own personality to cater to the desires of a dominant partner was no good for either of the individuals involved. 

“I can evaluate Naruto as well,” I told her, “and see what he thinks. If you still plan to name him as your successor, I'm going to need to start evaluating him, anyway.”

Tsunade sighed. “That's another reason for my concern. The business with Sasuke is another great tool for the elders to use against me, politically.”

_Damn dried-up old sticks who couldn't see the forest for the trees,_ I couldn't help thinking.

“You need to completely evaluate the situation before you start thinking the worst,” I said, the best method of reassurance I knew. Shinobi always looked toward the 'worst case' scenario, and as Hokage, Tsunade was the best at doing that. “It could be this is nothing more than... an exercise for his infiltration skills. The Uchiha were the best, right? Who knows what their training methods are like?”

She snorted, but I could see her turning the argument over in her head. After the Sound/Sand invasion, Konoha had a shortage of superior shinobi. The Uchiha – with his Sharingan – was one of Konoha's trump cards. The Council would be very wise to consider the ramifications of declaring him useless.

I went over to my desk schedule and checked to see what I had on docket. I could move Iruka's appointment to next week, and Anko would be fine if we missed a day – and that would leave tomorrow morning open. "Your apprentice was the third of that team, right?" I asked.

"Yes," Tsunade said suspiciously.

"Have Haruno Sakura here tomorrow, first thing. I'd like to get some background," I said. "Send Naruto an hour later, and I'll see Uchiha at lunchtime."

She nodded, and relaxed noticeably. She trusted me to help sort out this mess.

I wasn't sure if her confidence in my abilities made me proud or resentful. Because if the situation went south, I'd be the one held accountable.

Tsunade left a couple minutes later, and I decided to review what I already knew. Uchiha Sasuke was only a chuunin, and for him to be exhibiting such signs so young either meant he'd be a Hokage candidate in a couple years or the next S-class missing-nin intent on destroying Konoha. Considering who his elder brother was, I'd lay odds on the later.

I pulled out the file I'd created for Sasuke when we'd done his Academy exit interview. It was standard practice and helped make sure that most shinobi would see me as 'official' in case I had to be brought in.

I pushed my hair behind my ears as I evaluated what I'd written. I'd scribbled a red star in the upper left corner, indicating in my own special code that it was likely he'd eventually exhibit some severe signs of craziness. Good foresight on my behalf, though about half the shinobi had the mark in their folder.

Unfortunately, those little red stars had proven to have a seventy percent accuracy rating... and I was pretty sure the other thirty percent just weren't manifesting their insanity in obvious ways.

The file was thin, just stating the record of the interview. At twelve, Uchiha Sasuke had been a serious, intelligent, and decidedly uncommunicative child – which was the perfect temperament, according to the shinobi community. Labeled a prodigy, he already had very firm convictions on what he wanted to do. While his identification with the concept of becoming an 'Avenger' was worrisome, it was a natural reaction considering what had happened to him four years prior. 

Uchiha Itachi was another big blunder on my behalf. I really should have figured out something was wrong before he killed over a hundred of his relatives.

Though actually, I think the problem might have been that Itachi was a touch too sane for all his power - no outlet. How many thirteen-year-olds have skills that rank in the Kage-class? When you added that to his clan duties (and I had never been overly fond on the Uchiha's expectations of their children), all that stress had to go _somewhere_. I think I'm one of the few people who realizes how lucky Konoha got off... Itachi only destroyed his clan, and not the entire village. And then he got the hell out, and hasn't troubled us since.

I will freely admit to being on the cynical side.

Sasuke did have other records from the civilian counselors (taken in the days following the Uchiha Massacre before he flat-out refused to speak to anyone interested in shrinking his head), which I probably should request. It was possible the cross-dressing was a late-stage manifestation of his trauma. Unlikely, but not out of the realm of possibility.

Sitting back in my chair, I wondered if tomorrow was going to be one of those days I regretted participating in.

* * *

I was in my office, bright and squirrelly-early the next day (as my beloved husband liked to say – he tended to work late into the evenings, which made my morning-oriented schedule repugnant to him). As the sun rose over Konoha's walls, I sat by the window, sipping a cup of coffee and enjoying the peace and quiet. 

My day was going to be an interesting one: Haruno Sakura would be arriving first thing in the morning, and then I'd have a brief break before reacquainting myself with Uzamaki Naruto, my husband's best customer and the loudest ninja I'd ever met. The day would be rounded out with a session with Uchiha Sasuke himself. I could already feel the headache forming.

At eight on the nose, a gentle knock sounded on my door. I went over and opened it, seeing my expected guest. "Come on in, Haruno-san," I told her, stepping out of the way so she could enter.

"Thank you, Ichiraku-sensei," Haruno Sakura replied as she obeyed, heading immediately for the chair most of my shinobi patients selected – the one with the back to the wall, and that allowed for a clear line of sight at both the window, door, and my chair. Paranoia, thy name is shinobi.

Haruno was a pretty enough girl, possessed of striking coloring, but she wasn't going to be the most seductive kunoichi of her generation – that would be Yamanaka Ino (or maybe 'Uchiha Saki' but I really didn't want to think about 'her' in those comparative terms). Haruno just didn't have that stunning _something_ that raised a woman from pretty to beautiful. Not that I thought she minded (much), since she was an accomplished medical kunoichi.

"Would you like something to drink?" I offered. "I've got coffee, tea?"

"No, thank you," Haruno declined politely. "Tsunade-shishou said you wanted to speak with me about something?"

"Someone," I corrected. "I'm not asking you to betray any secrets, but concerns have arisen regarding one of your teammates."

I watched her carefully, adopting a concerned expression. She may have been one of the most promising upcoming kunoichi, but she sucked when it came to controlling her own body language. I noticed how she twitched, her nostrils flaring slightly as she struggled to keep control on her temper. I knew from my distant acquaintance with Naruto that Team Kakashi was very close to each other and wouldn't tolerate any form of threat to a teammate ( _threatening_ was reserved for in-team members).

"My teammates have always been eccentric," she said softly, glancing off to the side to avoid meeting my eyes.

"I can't say I'm surprised. You have Kakashi as a leader."

She nodded, folding her hands into her lap and focusing her attention on them. She had efficient hands, like most ninja, with her fingernails cut short and left unpolished. "He was a good teacher, for the most part. He may be unusual, but most jounin have their own quirks."

I had the choice of either trying to manipulate this conversation, or coming out with the truth. According to Tsunade, Haruno was brilliant, so trying to play games with would inevitably backfire. I decided to lay my cards on the table and hope she really did care for her teammates as much as I thought she did.

"Look, Haruno-san. You know that Uchiha Sasuke has taken to cross-dressing. I need to find out if it's merely a 'quirk,' as you put it, or symptomatic of something more serious," I said bluntly. "So don't bullshit me." 

Her eyes narrowed with barely-controlled temper, and her façade of sweetness was stripped away. I knew from my discussions with Tsunade that Sakura had mood swings, which were either the result of puberty or a deeper-seated issue. I wasn't about to borrow trouble; I haven't heard any complaints about her, so I wasn't going to look too closely.

"You want me to be honest with you, sensei?" she asked in a dangerously level tone of voice.

"It's the best policy. If Uchiha is unhinged, it's for the village's best interest that he be... dealt with," I replied, conveying a threat of my own. Not that I could do much aside from write a bad report and classify him as ineligible to be a shinobi. But for someone like Uchiha, whose identity revolved around his power as a ninja, that just might be the most powerful threat of all.

"Okay, write this down," she said. "It's not what you look like on the outside, but what you are on the inside that counts." Her smile dripped with rancid honey, and I could have sworn she actually _sparkled._ It was all I could do not to shudder; one Maito Gai once a week was more than enough. She was still smiling as she rose to her feet. "I hope that helps, sensei. I need to get to the hospital."

I watched as she left the room, mentally conceding the victory to her. Using that tried-and-true parental consolation was a brilliant stroke, not that I should have expected less of the genius apprentice of the Hokage. I couldn't argue with it, and it made a splendid zinger to take a graceful exit on. I resisted the urge to indulge in a painkiller, knowing that my meeting with Haruno was likely the easiest part of what I'd be facing today.

Diligently I pulled out my notebook and started to record my observations to be included in both Haruno and Sasuke's files. Her behavior was amazingly rational for a kunoichi of her caliber – she was protective of her teammate and resented my intrusive questions. Additionally, she was clever enough to play the game right before making a grand exit. If I didn't know better, I would claim she was just as sane as a Konoha civilian – which worried me. I'd never met a ninja that didn't have a couple of screws loose. After I finished my investigation into 'Saki,' I would have to consider some evaluation of the Godaime's apprentice. 

It said something really sad about the state of the Konoha that I was more freaked out by an apparently rational kunoichi than a high-powered shinobi's sudden devotion to drag.

Haruno had blown out of my office less than fifteen minutes into the session, which left a long time to wait for Naruto's session to start. I spent the time brewing a fresh pot of coffee and working on the jigsaw puzzle I kept on the table next to my desk. Puzzle-solving was my hobby; I had become so skilled that I would turn all five-thousand pieces upside-down so they only showed the brown of the cardboard. Matching the pieces together by shape, without the hint of the picture, was challenging.

I'd made four matches when I heard the knock on the door announcing my next appointment had arrived. "Come in," I called as I turned in my seat, knowing that Naruto didn't possess a lot of patience. The door slammed open as soon as the words left my lips, and Uzumaki Naruto bounced in, a cheerful bundle of orange clothing, blond hair, and ADHD. 

"Heya, Ichiraku-baasan!" He gave me a wide grin and plopped down – in a seat in the middle of the room. A seat which I'd never seen a shinobi take, since it was vulnerable from all sides. Apparently Uzumaki Naruto had huge amounts of confidence in his own prowess... or else he was too stupid to have developed a sense of self-preservation. I suspected it might be a combination of both.

"Hello, Naruto-kun," I said. "Would you like something to drink?"

"Nahhh," he said, dismissing the offer. "I don't suppose you have any ramen?"

Okay, that made me blink. "Why would I have ramen? This isn't a restaurant."

"Aren't you married to Ichiraku-jiisan?"

"Yes, but that doesn't mean I always have ramen on me." Truth to tell, I wasn't that fond of the noodles. Once upon a time, I'd like the dish quite a bit, but more than two decades of ramen, ramen and more ramen had made the food lose its luster. I wasn't stupid enough to try to explain that to my husband's best customer, though. I had the feeling that if you cut Naruto, he'd bleed ramen broth.

"If I was married to Ichiraku-jiisan, I'd make sure I'd always have ramen!"

My jaw dropped slightly as I tried to formulate a response. Naruto was talking about marrying my husband... this conversation was wrong on so many levels, but it did confirm one thing: Naruto was likely bisexual. Naruto had had a very strange childhood and didn't consider social taboos the way most people would.

"He does make good ramen, but I don't eat it while I'm at work," I said after I managed to gather my wits. I _knew_ this was going to be a weird conversation, I reminded myself. I carefully crafted my next sentence to play upon Naruto's hero complex. "And right now, I need your help to do my work."

He puffed up predictably, and I couldn't help but smile. "What can I do for you?"

"Do you know what I do for a living?"

"You talk to people, right?"

"That's part of my job. I'm actually Konoha's final shinobi evaluator. What I do is certify if a shinobi is field-ready. Do you remember when we talked after your graduation?"

His face squinted up cutely as he tried to jog his memory. "Not really. I was more worried about getting a really cool photo!"

Trying to get into Naruto's head might be the end of my own sanity. "I talk to all the shinobi, Naruto-kun," I said patiently, the way I'd speak to a five-year-old instead of a boy approaching seventeen.

Though calling him a boy was inaccurate now, I corrected myself. I hadn't seen him in a while, and my mental image of him was stuck at about twelve, right before he became Jiraiya-sama's apprentice; he'd grown since then. He was taller than I was and had packed on some muscle. His face had refined, and he was rather handsome, as his father Yondaime-sama had been. Naruto was quite yummy, really.

And dumb as a box of rocks. 

"So why did you want to see me today?"

I was going to have to handle this carefully. Coming out and telling him, the way I had with Haruno, would not work. And Naruto was renowned for being sensitive when it came to the Uchiha; Kakashi had complained a couple times about how difficult they had been to babysit during their genin years. Their rivalry was becoming legendary in Konoha, which was part of the reason the news about Uchiha becoming Naruto's girlfriend was so disconcerting.

"I wanted to ask you some questions about Saki," I said carefully.

His face lit up with a happy smile. "She's my girlfriend."

"So I've heard. I'm curious, though, about her relationship with Uchiha Sasuke."

For a second, he was curiously still, which was notable in someone like Naruto, who was in constant motion. For a shinobi, he really sucked at hiding his thoughts, much like his teammate, Sakura. Copy-nin Kakashi had clearly skipped a couple of lessons with his team. 

"The bastard doesn't like her," he said finally. "I think she's scared of him."

"Naruto..." I trailed off, knowing that I might be the bearer of some very bad news. "Sasuke and Saki... aren't they the same person?"

"No." His answer was uncharacteristically simple, since he tended to babble.

"Sasuke is dressing up as Saki-chan, Naruto-kun," I said gently.

"That's not how it works," Naruto corrected me. "Sasuke is Sasuke, and Saki-chan is Saki-chan."

"Is that what Sasuke told you?"

He looked out the window, avoiding my eyes. "It's just how it works. Sasuke doesn't like to talk about Saki-chan, and Saki-chan is too shy to talk about someone else."

That might make sense, now that I thought on it. Saki-chan was _nothing_ like the grim, very masculine Uchiha Sasuke. It might be part of a type of extensive role play.

"Can you give Saki-chan a message that gets to Sasuke? Like to meet you someplace, or about a mission you might have coming up?"

"Sure," Naruto said, "but why would I want to? When I'm with Saki-chan, I'm with her, not the bastard. I see him every day."

Originally I'd wondered if Sasuke had made changes to his personality and gender identification to secure a place as Naruto's partner. Now I wondered if Naruto had been dragged into Sasuke's insanity.

"How long have you two been dating?"

He looked down at his hands. "Ever since we met?"

"Which was when?"

"We were twelve," he said, "and on a mission."

Usually the word "mission" was a cue for the questioner to change the topic, since a shinobi village had lots of secrets involved. I possessed the highest-level security clearance in Konoha, equal to Tsunade-sama's herself (a necessity since I was a counselor for her). So Naruto's gambit wasn't going to stop me.

"I have Kage-level clearance," I told him. "Can you tell me about the mission?"

He blushed a bit. "Saki-chan was helping out with a surveillance mission, and we had to hide together."

I would need to obtain a copy of that mission report before making my determination about Uchiha. Secret identities were commonplace among shinobi, and there might be a jutsu involved in the creation of Saki-chan. 

My next question was one I didn't want to ask at all. I'd been exposed to some pretty harrowing conversations (Ibiki had once gone through a step-by-step recount of an interrogation he'd participated in, which had put me off eating for three days), so I was pretty resilient. 

"How far have you two gone?" I asked, squirming a little inside at the mental image of Naruto and Saki-chan engaged in intimate relations. This was worse than when I'd given the sex talk to Ayame.

Now it was his turn to squirm, which was answer enough. "Are you a pervert, too?"

Considering he'd been mentored by two of Konoha's most renown perverts, his words were probably meant as a back-handed insult. But I had developed very thick skin by years of exposure to the worst shinobi could dish out. "I'm doing my job. Knowing about interpersonal-relationship influences upon shinobi helps me with their evaluation."

"Huh?"

Oops. I'd used too many multiple syllable words. No wonder I'd lost him.

"It's my business to know how teammates get along."

"Oh! But Saki-chan's not on my team," he said.

I wanted to run my head into a wall. _This_ was the prime candidate to become Rokudaime?

"But Sasuke is."

"Sasuke and I get along just fine. We acknowledge each other," Naruto said.

And to someone like Naruto, who'd spent his childhood abhorred and ignored by the people around him, that was all that mattered. Somewhere along the way, he'd fixated on the Uchiha as his most important person and hadn't faltered since. Their being in a relationship might actually be healthy, provided I could determine how Sasuke's transgender ways were playing into things.

"And how is your relationship with Saki? Is it different than what you have with Sasuke?"

He stared at me like I was an idiot. "Of course. I don't sleep with Sasuke."

We had again stumbled into the "too much information" realm. _Though the idea of the two very pretty boys making out_ is _kind of hot,_ I caught myself thinking. Mentally, I gave myself a clout. I'd obviously been spending too much time counseling the many, many shinobi perverts and my thinking had been influenced.

"If you had to choose between them, who would..." 

Naruto cut me off before I could finish my question. He rose to his feet, slamming his hand down on the desk beside me as he leaned in close enough for me to see the anger in his blue, blue eyes. 

I'd been threatened by the best – once Kakashi had offered a demonstrate some of the Sharingan's more interesting features after I'd pried a bit too hard into his life – and it took a lot to shake me. It was all I could do not to shake as Naruto glared down at me.

"I am going to become Hokage, Ichiraku-baasan. There's no way I'm sacrificing any of my precious people." His voice was deeper, more authoritative, and suddenly, I realized this commanding presence was what had won the support of Tsunade. Naruto might be a flake, but when the cards were down, he wouldn't lose.

I tried to find a response, but my throat was too dry to speak. Naruto took advantage of my hesitation by walking out of the room, not even offering a goodbye. The door slammed shut so hard in his wake that I was surprised it didn't come off the hinges.

As soon as he left, the atmosphere lightened substantially, and I could breathe normally again. I'd been subjected to some pretty intense killer intent in the past, but Naruto was in a class of his own. It might be due to the Kyuubi's presence (and maybe the villagers had been correct to worry about what the jinchuriki could do), but I believed Naruto's determination was part of it. My questioning had made me register as a threat to those he cared for, and he was going to fight back with everything he had.

Naruto was clever like a fox, I couldn't help but think. 

It took a couple more minutes for me to calm down enough to grab my evaluations. As I reached for a pen, I noticed something that made me roll my eyes in exasperation.

The vibrations Naruto had sent over my desk scattered the puzzle I’d been working on. The pieces, most no larger than the knuckle on my thumb, had fallen onto the floor and into the garbage can. Sighing, I fell to my knees to try to collect them, knowing that it was likely futile.

This wasn't the first time an encounter with a shinobi had interfered with my puzzle – some of them swiped pieces, indulging in their compulsive kleptomania; others would use the pieces as "demonstrations" to illustrate a point about their missions; and in one memorable case, Orochimaru had _eaten_ a piece.

In fact, I'd never been able to complete a puzzle in my office. But if it made the shinobi I interviewed feel like they'd "struck back" at me, I would spend an entire lifetime working on puzzles that I would never seen completed. It was much better than any of the alternatives.


	2. Chapter 2

After finishing my immediate evaluations for both Sasuke and Naruto's files, I leaned back in my chair to indulge in a stretch. My neck was tense, and I wish that I hadn't decided to see all of Team Kakashi today. Well... not all. I could, theoretically, bring Kakashi in to discuss the situation as well, but I knew from experience that doing so would be nothing more than a waste of my time. Kakashi was a master dissembler, and he wouldn't reveal anything that might be harmful to a teammate. Even one he regularly called a "stuck up little bastard." 

And that was assuming he would show up at some point during the day he was scheduled. Once he'd been nine days late for his appointment, interrupting a session with Anko. Memories of that incident still gave me a couple nightmares. 

Shutting my eyes, I ran through some meditation exercises, ensuring the even flow of chakra through my body, which sent a warm, tingling sensation through my nerves and helped me feel rejuvenated. It was a common mistake to believe that only shinobi controlled their chakra; it was something present in all life forces. Only shinobi used it for big-scale things like attacks, but anyone with a basic knowledge of chakra could manipulate the chakra within their body. Chakra, I sometimes thought, was the basis of willpower. It was why belief and determination were so important for those people facing serious injury or illness. 

Opening my eyes a moment later, I felt more balanced and ready to tackle the thorny issue of Uchiha Sasuke again. I poured another cup of coffee (my third for the day). Then all I had to do was wait.

The door swung open at noon on the dot, right down to the very second. I didn't believe it was by chance. Such punctuality indicated a controlling nature, or maybe was a passive aggressive reaction to years of being subjected to Kakashi's constant tardiness. I couldn't blame him if that was the case.

He didn't offer me any form of greeting or acknowledgment, instead grabbing the chair Sakura had occupied earlier in the day. He sat down without making a sound, and then proceeded to try to stare me down.

It had been a while since I'd had him in my office. Aside from our brief, graduation-required session, he'd never fallen under my direct jurisdiction. When the Uchiha massacre had happened, he'd been evaluated by Morino Ibiki, and Ibiki had been the one assigned for his confession (and a minor torture session) after he'd returned from Sound. I didn't have any fancy jutsus to make sure he was telling the truth. All I had was my experience. 

I let the seconds tick by in silence, waiting to see if he would speak. While I did, I let my eyes roam over him in appreciation. Uchiha Sasuke was one of the most attractive men in the village. When I was younger, I'd been one of his father's fan girls, but even I had to admit that his looks put Fugaku's to shame. If I were twenty years younger, I might have let myself indulge in a fantasy or two, but despite his good looks, I saw a neglected, screwed-up child sitting in front of me.

Uchiha wasn't going to take kindly to manipulation on my behalf. He'd already had his craw stuffed by Itachi and Orochimaru. Not to mention having Kakashi as a jounin-sensei would encourage him to develop a severe dislike to looking "underneath the underneath."

So, out with it.

"There've been some concerns about your recent behavior, Uchiha-san. It's my duty to decide if you're fit to serve as a shinobi," I told him.

His eyes narrowed in a fashion that I didn't like, but at least he wasn't displaying his Sharingan. Sometimes, I wondered why I'd signed up to be a counselor to the shinobi, since all of my patients were capable of ripping me in half without breaking a sweat.

"I don't see why a civilian evaluator should be involved," he said, his voice almost a growl. 

"It's because I'm a civilian that I have to be involved," I told him. "The Hokage may run the village, but more people than just shinobi live in it. My job is to make sure you don't forget that. If I decide you're unfit for duty, you'll be dismissed as a shinobi of Konoha."

For a second, I believed he might just walk out. I've had several shinobi take that little tidbit in a less-than-pleasant manner, especially those that came from one of the great clans. But he remained seated, although he didn't say anything. The derision on his face spoke volumes alone.

I had originally planned on tackling the Saki issue directly, but my interview with Naruto made me decide on a different angle. "Tell me about your relationships with your teammates," I said, phrasing it as an order. 

I wondered if he was going to bother answering me, but Sasuke was known for his intellect. If he didn't cooperate, he'd have his shinobi status revoked. 

"They don't get in my way too often," he said.

I waited several moments, hoping he would elaborate. It was foolish since Sasuke was all shinobi, all the time. There was no way he'd give me "unnecessary" details. I bet reading his mission reports took Tsunade all of five seconds. 

"Do you socialize with them outside of missions?" 

"I spar with Kakashi and Naruto," he said.

"What about Haruno-san?"

"She's a girl," he said, and the flat tone of voice gave a very clear indication on his view of my gender.

Once upon a time, I might have been offended by his chauvinistic attitude, but I'd learned over the years that male skepticism did have some basis in truth. To start with, there were fewer girls interested in becoming ninja than boys. The lifestyle was rough and unappealing to girls who wanted to be princesses or mothers. Kunoichi could become exceptional – witness our Godaime – but in general, women didn't last as long as ninja. As genins, they often lacked the strength of their male counterparts as they practiced taijutsu, the most basic of the shinobi arts. Ninjutsu and genjutsu took longer to learn, but that meant they needed to survive before they had a chance to master those disciplines. 

Sasuke's attitude wasn't uncommon among the shinobi, though I would have thought exposure to Haruno – indisputably one of the most talented kunoichi of their generation – might have made him a little more respectful of women. It was certainly an interesting look at the way his mind worked. Uchiha Mikoto had been an exceptional kunoichi growing up, but she'd given up her career upon having Itachi. Sasuke had never known his mother as anything except a housewife; it was a pity.

And when I thought on it, I realized how like Mikoto "Saki" must be. I remembered Mikoto as a soft-spoken women, always watching what was going on, but rarely engaging with others; shy, but not weak. The creation of "Saki" might have been forced by a mission, but I would wager her personality had been influenced by forces even Sasuke didn't recognize.

I thought out all of that in a couple seconds, knowing I had to keep the conversation (such as it was) moving. "Do you dislike girls, Sasuke?" 

"They're annoying."

"Are you attracted to them?" 

His nostrils flared as he struggled not to react. I watched impassively as he shifted forward in his seat, resting his hands on the wooden arms of the chair. "I'm not attracted to anyone. Becoming the best shinobi is my priority, and I don't have time for... romance."

He spoke in a level tone of voice, meeting my eyes squarely, and I might have been convinced if I hadn't seen it all too often before. All shinobi were good liars.

"What do you think of Uzumaki Naruto?"

Sasuke didn't even flinch, although the timing of my question clearly indicated I knew about Naruto and "Saki." 

"He's... special," he said, and the second word came out with a slight growl.

"How so?"

I could hear the seconds ticking by as Sasuke thought the question over. His eyes shifted up, indicating he was remembering something. Watching eye movement was one of the best indicators I had when dealing with stubborn shinobi. "He just is," he said finally.

That simple answer said a lot. Sasuke wasn't a verbal person, and despite his high level of intelligence, was a poor communicator. Trying to explain something he understood to someone else would always be a challenge, and him trying to describe Naruto to me would be like trying to tell a blind person what the color orange looked like. It simply was a fact of life that had to be experienced to be understood.

I supposed I might as well attempt to get to the heart of the matter. "What's his relationship with Saki?" 

Sasuke was a cool customer – he didn't flinch, and he offered no sign that he was disturbed by hearing the name of his alter ego. "You'd have to ask him."

"I already did. He says she's his girlfriend."

"Then that's what she is. The idiot doesn't lie," Sasuke replied, his lips quirking in a smirk.

I would _not_ let him get under my skin. I would not let him irritate me, I would not let him get me off track, and I most certainly would not let him gain the upper hand.

"Then what's your relationship with Saki?" I threw back. 

"I don't have one with her."

"Bullshit, Uchiha. Try pulling the other one. What do you think of her?"

"She's a girl," he said. "A weak girl."

Didn't that say a lot. Sasuke's reluctance to admit any kind of respect for Saki was intriguing and could be symptomatic of so very many bad things. Or it could be a healthy dissociation, a compartmentalization of his life that was his way of coping with the harshness of being a shinobi.

The only way to know would be to meet his other half. I checked the clock, noting we'd gone on for nearly thirty minutes – much better than I'd managed to get out of his teammates. Amusing that the one who was supposed to be the most antisocial had survived the psychiatrist's office for the longest period of time. 

"Uchiha-san, can you give a message to Saki-chan for me?"

"Maybe."

"Tell her I want to see her first thing tomorrow, at eight in the morning, in this office."

For the first time since he'd entered the room, he reacted with something other than annoyance and irritation. His eyes widened slightly, and his breathing rate increased. "I'll see she gets the message," he said gruffly, before tagging on, "but I can't guarantee she'll come."

"It's important she does," I said. "It may affect Naruto's chances of becoming Hokage."

Sasuke didn't react, but I was pretty sure he was listening. The rest of the minutes of the session ticked by, but he didn't speak, and I'd already made my point.

* * *

I had about thirty minutes to document my impressions of Sasuke's session and grab a bite to eat before my day was due to continue. Scheduling appointments with shinobi was a bit different than scheduling so-called regular people. If I'd been in a civilian practice, I would have stacked appointments on top of each other, keeping people in a waiting room, but that was a bad idea when you deal with twitchy humans armed to the teeth. While it was an open secret that almost all the best had regular sessions with me, none of the shinobi liked others to know they needed to see the village headshrinker. So I made a point of scheduling at least fifteen minutes of downtime between each appointment. It meant I saw fewer people in a day, but I also was able to get my paperwork done as the day progressed.

I would have liked the time to do a bit of digging into Sasuke's situation, but I had three more people to see before the end of the day. Sessions with Nara Shikaku (severe depression and apathy), Hyuuga Neji (narcissism, anger, fatalism and inferiority), and Maito Gai (I don't even want to start defining his issues) rounded out my schedule. I needed my complete wits around me, since Shikaku was one of the smartest men in the village, Neji was a genius in his own right, and spending time with Gai was frightening, especially if he really got going.

It would be a lie to claim that my day was unique, since every day in my office provided its own share of challenges. As shinobi evaluator, I was constantly presented with very unique cases, and how I reacted was important. I might not have been able to cast a jutsu or wield a kunai, but I defended the village in my own way.

As the clock finally hit five, I heaved a sigh of relief and started to close down my office. I would come into the office early the next morning to finish researching the matter. I had requested copies of several mission reports (notably the one which "Saki" had been created for), which would mysteriously arrive on my desk sometime during the night. I knew many counselors had strict protections in place to guard patient confidentiality, but nothing I could do would stop a determined shinobi from getting in. I didn't even bother locking the door; the best defense was the ninja's paranoid conspiracy. None of them would steal anything or spy, for fear of having someone else do the same to them.

I was just drawing the blinds (which Gai had thrown open, proclaiming it a pity to miss the glorious day, never mind the rain outside), when someone spoke.

"So?"

I spun around, jumping at the unexpected presence. Living in a Hidden Village should have prepared me to deal with people appearing out of nowhere, but it was hard to restrain the slight scream whenever someone did it. Damn shinobi had no consideration for civilian sensibilities.

The Godaime was leaning against my desk, a hand casually toying with a pen I'd left there.

"So what?" I shot back, annoyed at Tsunade. She may have been the Godaime, but that didn't give her the right to scare me out of my wits.

She tapped her red, red nails against my desk, not budging an inch. "You know why I'm here."

"And I would tell you if I were ready to report," I shot back. "I'm not done with the evaluations."

"Oh?" A blond eyebrow quirked in inquiry.

"I'm having Saki report here tomorrow," I said. "I need to meet her."

"Didn't you interview Sasuke today?"

"I did, but I need to see 'Saki' in action before I can draw a competent opinion," I said. "Have you seen her before?"

Tsunade shook her head. "I don't get out of the tower much, and I'm not able to walk among the places Naruto and Saki frequent without standing out like a sore thumb. You're not willing to tell me what way you're leaning?" she wheedled.

"You're a doctor, Tsunade. You know how much damage a premature diagnosis can cause," I chided her in return. 

"I need to know as soon as you do."

"Want to, you mean. I know you're concerned about Haruno and Naruto, but another week of the current status quo won't make things worse," I said. 

She growled slightly. "Don't get snide with me, Ichiraku-sensei."

I could tell the painkillers were wearing off, because I was getting a splitting headache. The last thing I wanted to do right now was argue with the great Tsunade-hime when she was on her high horse. "Look, Tsunade, it's been a very long day, and I just want to get home and forget about how psycho shinobi can be. I'll give you my report as soon as I've come to a conclusion, all right?"

For a second, I thought she might take offense to my rather blunt (and derogatory) comment, but she was more than just a shinobi; Tsunade was a doctor, too, and used to dealing with difficult patients. She sighed and ran a hand over her forehead. "I'll keep you to that," she said, before turning and leaving.

The almost-confrontation with Tsunade was the cap to a trying day in the office. I needed a hug (and maybe a bit more) from my husband and to have a conversation (a normal one) with my daughter. They were the only things that kept me sane and grounded.

* * *

I awoke the next morning just as the sun was rising. My husband snored on beside me, and I was tempted to give him a nudge to make him stop. But more than twenty years of marriage had taught me that would start something I didn't have time to finish.

After getting dressed, I headed out toward my office. I really liked the early morning routine in Konoha. The day always felt fresh, and the air smelled cleaner. There were few people on the street, and those who were present were either too sleepy to be much of a bother or shared my joy in waking up early. I stopped by my favorite baker's stall and picked up some of the daily special and a cup of coffee.

When I arrived at my office, I was pleased to see the reports that I'd asked for were there. Glancing at the clock, I noted I had an hour to go before "Saki" was due to arrive.

Assuming she showed. I wasn't a hundred percent sure she would.

There really wasn't much in the reports. Kakashi's mission logs were rambling pieces of garbage, offering little useful information aside from the fact the mission was complete. He'd describe what flowers he'd seen on the trip or what he'd had for lunch, but never anything of substance. He would likely claim that I needed to look "underneath the underneath" to get what he was conveying, but I knew it was just his typical need to be infuriating and passive-aggressive.

Naruto's weren't much better. His handwriting was atrocious, and his spelling was worse. He used made-up adjectives to describe his own awesomeness and was light on the details about what actually happened. Only one line, "Sasuke looks like a pretty, pretty girl in a skirt," stood out. And I'd wager that had been written just to mock his sometimes-rival, since the rest of Naruto's reports had plenty of curses to describe the Uchiha.

Sasuke's reports were the worst, though. I had been right about the likely brevity of them. They were all exactly the same, and all contained only two words: _Mission Completed._ I wondered how he got away with it.

The clock chimed the hour softly, and I looked up to notice it was eight... and my appointment hadn't arrived. That wasn't good; if Saki didn't show, I'd have to make a judgment on what I already knew, without all the facts. It increased my margin of error substantially. Information was my chief weapon in my private war against shinobi insanity.

Luckily, it didn't come down to that in this case. There was a knock, and then the door cracked opened about two minutes after the appointment should have started. A soft, whispery voice, "Excuse me, Ichiraku-sensei?" 

"Come in," I replied.

The door swung open hesitantly, if a piece of wood can be said to move like that. Moments later a strikingly beautiful figure entered, and I had to struggle to keep from visibly reacting. Although I had been provided with pictures ahead of time, nothing could create the full impact like the reality.

She was dressed from neck to toe in gothic lolita finery. A lacy black blouse disguised the breadth of her shoulders and lent her a fragility that was not possessed by her male alter ego. Her navy blue skirt was propped up by black tulle, and she wore subtle makeup that enhanced the sharpness of her features. Her entire body language was demure and shy, and I found it very hard to believe this was Uchiha Sasuke, the Avenger of Konoha.

"I'm sorry I'm late," she apologized. This was even more jarring, since I'd wager a year's salary that Sasuke had never apologized for a thing in his life. She stood in the doorway, waiting for me to reply.

"That's fine, Uchiha-san," I assured her. It was strange to be addressing this... I wasn't sure what to call him/her/it/hir... the same way I had Sasuke. "How about you take a seat?"

Her boots, black and featuring bitching heels, clomped across the carpet as she moved 0toward the seat Naruto had claimed, the one in the middle of the room. Despite the clunky nature of her footwear, she moved with grace. I watched him - not a girl, I reminded myself, _not_ a girl - before deciding that paying attention to gender identifiers would become too much of a headache to be worth while. She sat like a lady bred, smoothing her skirt as she settled herself comfortably. It was an unconscious movement, one that spoke of practice rather than feigned femininity.

"Why did you want to see me?" she asked, and I was surprised, again, by the difference between her and Sasuke. It was like Sasuke had taken everything he was and inverted it to create "Saki's" personality.

Ahh, that was the sixty-four thousand ryou question. I had no clue how I wanted to proceed. My decision would depend on how aware Sasuke was of his cross dressing and how much importance he placed on the separation of roles. But since he was projecting himself as an entirely different person, it would probably behoove me to treat "Saki" as a person in her own right.

"There is some concern about your fitness as a shinobi, Uchiha-san. Along with the unconventional nature of your relationship with Uzumaki Naruto, who is viewed by many as the leading contender to become the next Hokage."

She blinked once as she processed what I had said. "They're afraid I'd do something to hurt Naruto-kun?" she asked.

Interesting that she had focused on that issue, instead of the concern for her (or Sasuke's) future. Sasuke would have shot back something about the bastards on the council being intimidated by his prowess or offered to demonstrate his abilities. Saki was concerned about her relationship with Uzumaki. 

"If I told you to choose between dating Uzumaki or continuing as a ninja, what would you choose?"

She bit her lip. "Would you make me choose?"

"You might have to, Uchiha-san," I said, "but I'm not the one to make that decision. Right now, we can call it a hypothetical question that I need you to answer."

"Why would I have to be the one to choose? I don't want to hurt anyone," she said, and she shaded her eyes with her long, naturally dark lashes. Yet again, the thought crossed my mind how unfair it was for a man to be so naturally beautiful.

"Shinobi hurt others when they need to protect someone or something," I said. "You can't exist in this life without being willing to hurt someone."

She bit the bottom of her lip, still avoiding meeting my eyes. "I can't choose. Sasuke... Sasuke wouldn't forgive me."

Now this was getting interesting. Saki, like Sasuke before her, referred to her other identity as another person.

"What is the relationship between yourself and Sasuke?"

I could hear the seconds tick away as she thought about her answer. "I'm what he can never be," she said finally.

"What do you mean by that?"

Her fingers twitched in her lap, but she lifted her head to regard me, moving past the shyness. "Sasuke is the best shinobi there is. He doesn't have room for anything else in his life."

I had heard claims of being the "best shinobi" for my entire career, and most times, it was ego talking. In Sasuke's case, Saki might be right. When shinobi reached a certain plateau, it became practically impossible to figure out who was supreme, like the legendary Sannin. Jiraiya had been weaker than Orochimaru, who had been weaker than Tsunade, who had been weaker than Jiraiya. They all had their vulnerabilities and strengths, and sometimes it was a tossup over who would win, if they had to face off.

"That's not a healthy attitude," I said. "What are you, then?"

Her lips quirked, but it wasn't a happy expression she made. "I'm what he had to give up to become the best."

I nodded, indicating that she was to continue. Her hands twisted, fidgeting, and I studied the contrast between her dark nail polish and callused palms. Pretty as she was, she still bore the signs of her livelihood.

It was several moments before she spoke again, and her words were stuttering and disjointed. "I can love and show weakness. I can care about others and accept their affections. I... I don't want to be alone," she said. "Sasuke is strong and doesn't need anyone, but..." 

"We all need people in this world. Humans are social animals," I told her.

"Shinobi aren't."

And in a nutshell, this crazy, cross-dressing shinobi had summed up the one fundamental truth that guided my practice. The perfect shinobi had no emotions, but shinobi were also human beings. Trying to reconcile the impossible dichotomy into their lives was what drove the best over the edge, time and again.

"So if I asked you, not Sasuke, to choose, you'd choose Naruto, wouldn't you?" She shook slightly, but didn't answer. "And if I asked Sasuke to choose, he'd choose his career," I pressed on.

"Why can't we have them both?" she asked, and her eyes were large and glossy, like she was about to cry. She was so adorable I wanted to hug her and promise that of _course_ she wouldn't have to choose... but doing so would not only be unrealistic, but perhaps also a lie. Shinobi were the weapons of Konoha, and their personal desires had to take backseat to the greater good of the village.

"If you're a shinobi, you should know why that might not be possible," I told her. "If another war starts, you might be forced to make some tough choices. There're reasons why intra-team fraternization is frowned upon."

"I know that. But Naruto-kun..." she trailed off. "Naruto-kun makes the impossible possible. He would never leave a teammate behind."

Having read the "retrieve Sasuke" mission files (filled out by Shikaku's chuunin son, who I would _have_ to get to fairly soon), I could believe that. Uzumaki Naruto would do anything for his teammates. He carried the so-called "Will of Fire" that had defined both Jiraiya and his father, Namikaze Minato. I wasn't sure I believed in it, but it helped the shinobi function, so I wasn't going to knock it.

"I know that, Uchiha-san. The question is, would you? Could you?"

I wondered if she was going to start hyperventilating, but she managed to maintain control of herself. "Sasuke is the perfect shinobi. He'll do what he needs to."

Again, I found that answer less than satisfying since I knew Sasuke had been trained by Kakashi, who held some decidedly out of sync ideas about what was important as a shinobi. But all the members of the former Team Seven had grown into exceptional shinobi, so maybe he had a point in the importance of teamwork. 

"And what about you, Saki-san? I know you've participated in missions before." 

She blushed, and her head dropped again in embarrassment. "I'm never alone when I do a mission. Naruto-kun..." her voice trailed off. "If I'm on a mission, he's going to be the one making the decisions, and I'll follow his lead."

Saki was so very submissive. It was possible that was a deliberate choice on her behalf or a reflection on Sasuke's misogynistic views. 

"I see," I said finally.

She sat in silence, a tableau of feminine frailty as her eyes remained fixated on her hands. There were many questions I could have asked her, but she'd already told me what I needed to know. Glancing at the clock, I noticed it was almost time to end the session, anyway.

"Thank you very much for coming in on such short notice, Uchiha-san," I told her. 

She nodded and rose to her feet in a smooth move that made me slightly envious, again. "Thank you very much for listening, Ichiraku-sensei," and she bowed respectfully, her fingers lightly touching in front of her thighs.

After Saki left in a graceful swish of skirts, I rubbed my head although I didn't have a headache. I was relatively lucky in this whole examination of Uchiha Sasuke; I hadn't needed to visit the medic for shinobi-inflicted physical damage. While most of my clients knew better than to hurt their evaluator, a couple lashed out. I ended up with the satisfaction of seeing them cashiered from Konoha's service, but I hated the pain lingering wounds inflicted. I also bore a couple of scars that the medicnin had been unable to heal entirely, though I didn't like to think about that.

After refilling my coffee cup, I pulled out a sheet of paper and prepared to draw the verdict. I always agonized over this, even if the answer was blindingly obvious, because of the few mistakes (Itachi, Orochimaru....) I had made. If I made a mistake with Sasuke, I would have to share the blame for whatever mayhem he caused. 

But if I was too cautious, I might deprive Konoha of the skills of one of the most powerful shinobi in the world. Or more than just one. If Uchiha Sasuke were taken out of Konoha's line-up, I had the feeling his teammates might follow. I tapped my pen against the white paper, trying to decide how to frame my conclusion. 

I was just finishing up when the door opened. "I'm expecting someone soon, Tsunade."

"I had your schedule cleared."

The high-handedness of her doing so was irritating, and I considered chewing her out for it, but I knew she did it out of concern. Tsunade was a good Hokage because she loved her people, and Haruno and Naruto – and through them, Uchiha – were particularly close to her heart.

"Don't get in the habit of it," I said, a mild reprimand.

She snorted, before striding over to stand next to my shoulder and attempt to peek at the report I was working on. I tsked and covered it with my hand.

"You're being rude," I chided her. "Take a seat, and we can talk like civilized people."

"Sure thing, sensei," she drawled. "And I brought something along to make the conversation flow a little more smoothly."

She pulled out a very large jug of sake and held it out to me. Knowing Tsunade, the sake would be of the finest quality. I looked at Tsunade, giving her a long look before I took the bottle of sake. It wasn't yet ten in the morning, but I could feel the appeal of drinking alcohol. 

"Just to be clear, this isn't a bribe," I told her. "It's a gift for my devoted, extremely courageous service to Konoha."

"Of course," Tsunade replied.

I didn't have any sake cups, so I had to make due with the mugs I kept for coffee. Never mind the fact it gave me the excuse to dole out a lot more for the each of us.

Tsunade looked incongruous holding the Hello Kitty mug, but she drank the sake down like it was coffee, sipping away at fairly regular intervals. "Well? What's the verdict?"

I might have been tempted to prevaricate, but Tsunade was not known for her vast wellsprings of patience. "Complete dissociation," I said.

She tilted her head, biting her lower lip as she thought on that. "Is he dangerous?"

I leveled a "you have to be kidding me" look on her. "He's an Uchiha," I said dryly.

Tsunade immediately saw my point, and rephrased her question. "Correction: does this make him unfit for duty?"

"In my opinion, Uchiha Sasuke has the potential to become one of your most efficient operatives," I said. Tsunade gave me a smile, but I held up a hand. "Uchiha Saki, however, should be considered a non-combatant. You might want to see about drawing her up some paperwork and getting identification forms."

Her eyes widened slightly. "So you think the village should treat him as two people?" Tsunade asked.

"If cross-dressing is Sasuke's method of coping, I say we encourage it. The last thing we need is for him to turn into another Itachi."

We both shuddered at the thought. Sasuke had the potential to be one of the best, but that could be a dual-edged weapon. If we were to be practical about things, it made more sense to put him on restricted duty, maybe relegate him to guarding the walls forever where he couldn't do that much damage.

But Tsunade was a gambler. And Konoha needed the best ninja it could get, which meant crazy had to be judged on a relative scale.

"I'll take your recommendations into consideration," Tsunade said.

That was as good as confirming what I already knew: as long as Sasuke wasn't about to murder us in our beds, he'd maintain his place as a Konoha shinobi. Sasuke's insanity wasn't manifesting in a detrimental fashion; on the contrary, it might be a healthy outlet. Considering what his older brother had done after snapping, I counted Konoha lucky that Sasuke had fixated on dressing in lace and wearing strawberry lip gloss.

* * *

I suppose I should say something about how my under appreciated efforts made a difference in Sasuke's life, and how I was convinced I'd offered the right advice to Tsunade. But that's not the way this story goes. 

In my experience, counseling has never "fixed" anyone. Humans are wonderfully, aggravatingly complex organisms and answers can rarely be boiled down into definitives. I would have no way of ever realizing if separating Sasuke and Saki's legal identities was the best decision, but it was the decision I had reached. So I did what I usually did after drawing a conclusion: I scheduled Sasuke and Saki for monthly appointments (alternating biweekly Thursdays) and considered the matter as settled as it was going to get.

Three months later, I had reason to reconsider.

I didn't visit my husband's stand that often, since I wasn't a huge ramen fan, and I preferred to see Teuchi outside of his working environment. Being around him when he cooked was aggravating as he tended to obsess over every little detail, leaving little time for conversation. As one of those unspoken marital compromises, I had decided not to hang around frequently because his inattentiveness would have made me want to pick a fight.

But every now and then, I would pop by to see my daughter. Ayame's at the age where she was too old to be dependent on her mother, but not yet old enough to want to spend time with me. Eating a bowl she'd cooked made me happy, and we often shared good conversations as I ate.

I'd closed the office early that day (Kakashi had missed his appointment, and I wasn't going to wait until he deigned to show, since it could be in five minutes or five days) and headed for the stand. It was slightly too early for the dinner crowd to arrive, which provided me with the perfect window. Ayame made the bowl of miso ramen herself, with Teuchi keeping a careful eye on the process. She smiled as she set it down, leaning across the counter as she waited for me to taste.

I was interrupted before I could though, as a couple of people pushed past the curtain to the stall, each claiming a stool. Uchiha Saki sat directly next to me, with Naruto next to her and Haruno on the far side. I blinked for a second, before turning my face down toward my bowl.

I'm not a rude person by nature, but my profession made me a social pariah in many cases. People didn't like greeting me, because doing so would be admitting that they knew who I was, and no one wanted others thinking they were in need of the local headshrinker. I had learned it was best to ignore others unless they went out of their way to acknowledge my presence.

Team Kakashi's (I suppose I can call them that, even though Saki wasn't technically a member of that august trio) arrival necessitated my daughter's attention to take the orders. I slurped my ramen slowly and listened to them order – a bowl of soba for Saki, three bowls of beef ramen for Naruto and a single serving of pork ramen for Sakura – before they returned to an already-in-progress conversation.

"Like I was saying, Sasuke and I are both perfectly fine with it," I heard Haruno say from her place three seats away. "I never figured you'd have issues."

Naruto shook his head in denial. "Isn't it kind of like, cheating?"

"It's only cheating if we didn't tell you," Haruno replied. "Right, Saki-chan?" I could almost hear the hearts dripping off Saki's name.

Naruto swung around on his seat. "You really want to do this, babe?"

Saki was spared from answering by a timely interruption from my daughter, who delivered their orders with brisk efficiency. And as everyone in Konoha knows, not even the world ending could distract Uzumaki Naruto from ramen, which tabled the conversation.

I wished I hadn't heard it. It was possible there could be some innocent explanation for their discussion, that I had missed the opening salvos, so I was misinterpreting things.

Watching as Naruto inhaled two bowls (while placing an order for three more) within sixty seconds put me off my hunger. Saki was sipping at her water glass instead of eating, but Haruno was digging into her own meal heartily. From the blood-stained clothing she wore, I wagered she'd just finished a rough shift at the hospital and was famished.

After finishing his third bowl (before Saki had even started, and Haruno was only half-finished her meal), Naruto slid back from the table and patted his belly. "Nothing in the world is better than fresh, Ichiraku Ramen!" he declared happily.

I watched as Sakura's eyebrow twitched. _"Nothing?"_ she echoed, keenly stressing the word.

I was missing something, but even as an outsider I knew Naruto had just made a verbal _faux pas._ A smarter ninja would have noticed the warning signs, but this was Naruto. He compounded complete idiocy with usual male obliviousness, which made the result a foregone conclusion.

"Nope!" he chirped cheerfully back.

Years of being around stressed-out shinobi had honed my instincts. While I certainly couldn't fight one, I'd learned the art of ducking quickly. It was one of the reasons I'd survived.

So I was already falling to the floor as Naruto was speaking. But what surprised me was that I was pulling Uchiha Saki down with me. As we hit the ground, my mind went numb as I realized what I'd done. I had really good instincts for shinobi, and manhandling one was a sure-fire recipe for getting your ass kicked.

To my shock, she didn't do anything except curl up slightly, protecting her face and head by tucking against her body. I still had my hands on her waist, feeling the fine cotton of her frilly shirt beneath my fingers. She made a slight whimpers as she heard the sound of Haruno shrieking and then throwing her bowl at Naruto's head.

Naruto managed to duck, which was a good thing considering the fact that the bowl shot across the tiny stall fast enough to decapitate a man. The ramen didn't even spill mid-flight, though the shattered bowl did leave a mess for my daughter to clean up. 

"THE RAMEN!" Naruto cried in horror.

I heard my husband and daughter screaming at Haruno, adding to the confusion.

"YOU UNGRATEFUL GIRL!"

"WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING?"

Glancing up, I saw my husband waving a strainer at Haruno, whose face was flushed and angry. Naruto stood in front of his teammate, trying to keep my family from getting at her... and Saki was _still_ on the ground, peeking through her hands. I looked at her, and saw nothing of Uchiha Sasuke in her face. Instead, I saw a civilian, which was likely why I'd pulled her down instinctively.

Knowing Naruto and Team Seven's reputation, half the city block was about to be destroyed. And I wondered if I was the only one who realized how utterly insane the entire situation was – two shinobi were about to go at it with my husband and daughter, and I was protecting a cross dressing Uchiha with superior skills who could kill me with the literal blink of an eye. Somehow it felt natural to shield Saki, though. She was everything soft and gentle that Uchiha Sasuke couldn't be, and I was willing to help him perpetuate the role.

These were times I wondered if, as the lone sane person left in Konoha, I wasn't actually the craziest in the entire village.


End file.
